To exist is to adapt, and if one could not adapt, one died and made room for those who could.

Anger is a killing thing: it kills the man who angers, for each rage leaves him less than he had been before - it takes something from him.

One learns to adapt to the land in which one lives.

Carryin' a gun is a chancy thing. Sooner or later a man is put in a position to use it. And a body has to figure that if somebody packs iron he plans to use it when the time comes; and if he draws it out, he plans to shoot.

A mind, like a home, is furnished by its owner, so if one's life is cold and bare he can blame none but himself. You have a chance to select from pretty elegant furnishings.

Throw a rock into a pack of dogs, the one that yelps the loudest is usually the one that got hit.

There are good men everywhere. I only wish they had louder voices.